ObLaDi, ObLaDa TEASER
by addygal411
Summary: This is the story of Desmond 'Des' Jones and Molly Silver, two lovers in the second war. Based off the Beatles song, "Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da" which I do NOT own.


A/N: Hello all! This is what you would call a teaser for my fic, 'Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da." Why? Because I feel like it! Anyways, the finished fic will be up sometime on another site. This is just the bait. Mehehehehee.

Desmond 'Des' Jones walked rapidly along the walkway to the shop, his dark hair whooshing behind him. It was still early in the workday, (five o'clock AM) but he didn't want to be late. He felt today was going to be a busy day- he just had this feeling it would.

It wasn't. He sighed, and kicked nearby wall for the heck of it. He had failed Divination, anyway. As his foot started to throb, he strode impatiently to the barrow. He sold magically enhanced fruits. It wasn't much, but it was life. He stared impatiently at his Pretty Apples (they supposedly make you gorgeous) and his Sporting Pears (they make you do really well in sports) and gave a growl. Every since Voldemort-- or, as he reminded himself constantly, You-Know-Who-- came back into power, business had gone down the drain. No one really cared about his food anymore, even if he had lowered his prices dramatically, and his barrow was one ignored. He had tried to attract customer by even putting up signs around the square, but to no avail. Business was near bust.

Voldem-- You-Know-Who. He was the cause of all this destruction. Shops had been closing left and right at his expense. Some shops had been blasted into smithereens, such as Ollivander's. It chilled him the bone whenever he thought of it. He kept thinking that it could have been him, or another person's, like Florence Fortiscue. His hadn't exploded, it had just been moved out of quietly. But that didn't mean wasn't evacuated, or that Des couldn't use the overhead umbrella for his barrow.

His mind moved suddenly to the coverage from the Dailey Prophet. Most of it is useless; a load of rubbage, but once in while there was something interesting. In the back corner of one of middle pages, he saw a headline of, "Goblins Run Away at the New Uprising". He had scanned the paper for the reporter's name every day after that, hoping to have an undercover supporter in the media, but she was never found again. He had assumed she was fired, or worse, killed. He was scared by the thought of a person stepping out of line, and getting shot down (literally or figuratively) immediately.

He watched as the dust blew over the streets. Usually shop owners set up shop at this time, much like him in the hope of a good day, so he waved to the few out there. They gave a quick smile back, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. There was usually a night guard on duty on the corner; as he was, sleeping, now; so they moved as little as they could. If noticability was at all avoidable, they would take even the most elaborate steps to do so.

Des sighed, and remembered the coverage of that on last week's Potterwatch. Potterwatch had been his only solace for news through this whole mess. The Quibbler had been a good resource too; until it had stopped… well, printing. Reporting everything important that all the news sources regularly missed, he hung on to every second of it. He had had great pride for Harry Potter ever since he was sorted into his house, and greatly enjoyed the updates on him. Potter was a source of immediate hope—even his greatly suppressed name brought joy to the hearts of the people. He was glad that such a force could still survive under this weather. If he wasn't there, Des was sure that they wouldn't be.

A disturbance awoke Des from his beaming thoughts. The night guard had awoken from his lazy slumber. He blinked his fat eyes rapidly, and surveyed the area, making no one had caused anything bad. Then, he rolled over and snacked on a morning sandwich. Des didn't hate the guard; in fact, sometimes he had bought Slim Bananas from him. However, a lot of people were scared of him. Des could see why—he could probably crush you by sitting.

As Des stifled a giant laughed from his inward joke, he noticed a person hurriedly pacing down the walk. He stopped and smiled- this was a perfect business opportunity. As the young woman swiveled to walk up an alley, he yelled, "Hey, lady, want to buy an apple?"

The lady turned around, and her face broke into a small quiver of smile. "Sure," she spoke, "What harm could it do in these times?"

"That's the attitude," Des said, laughing against the world.


End file.
